


Whiskey-Coke

by HamletsProzac



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blow Jobs, Get Together, Grinding, Nerds being dorks, alcohol use followed by sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 06:52:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9423485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HamletsProzac/pseuds/HamletsProzac
Summary: "It’s been entirely too long since he’s seen Tendou.Really, it’s only been two months, but that’s an eternity for Wakatoshi. Considering they’d spent nearly every waking moment together all of high school, it feels reasonable that going this long without physically seeing him would have him desperate.Desperate?That’s not the right word. That’s the whiskey talking.Right?"How it starts.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on a lil UshiTen seires - this is the first installment. Frankly, it's not ready, but I'm sick of looking at it.  
> A few things before we get started:  
> \- They are both freshmen in college. They go to different universities.  
> \- For anyone who's curious, Bokuto is Wakatoshi's roommate. He should make an appearance later in the series.  
> \- There is alcohol use, but no one is "drunk".  
> I love these boys so much. Please Enjoy ~

It’s been entirely too long since he’s seen Tendou.

Really, it’s only been two months, but that’s an eternity for Wakatoshi. Considering they’d spent nearly every waking moment together all of high school, it feels reasonable that going this long without physically seeing him would have him desperate.

Desperate?

That’s not the right word. That’s the whiskey talking.

Right?

Wakatoshi shifts, refocusing on the dim, flickering light of the television screen. He tries not to disturb Tendou, who is pressed to his side, warm and heavy under his arm. The whiskey buzzes around his head, making him feel slow and content. Tendou smells good – he’d forgotten the scent of his hair product. How it smelled woodsy and clean. The spikes of Tendou’s hair tickle his chin. The sensation keeps him focused, against the pull of the whiskey-coke that threatens to drag him to sleep.

And to think he’s been _desperate_ to see Tendou again.

But now, with the skinny little redhead snuggled up to him like a kitten, he feels more at ease than he has since he started school. He could make excuses, if he wanted to. He could blame it on the fact that he hasn’t really made friends outside of his roommate. He could blame it on the fact that they hadn’t been able to talk much – college kept them busy, between their class schedules and Wakatoshi’s volleyball practice and Tendou’s social calendar. They were lucky if they could manage to update each other once a week. He could blame it on the serendipitous nature of this night. They shouldn’t have been able to see each other for another two weeks, but Tendou had had a night open up, so he’d asked Wakatoshi if he could visit. His roommate was visiting home, so Wakatoshi had agreed without hesitation. And he could blame the whiskey, if he really wanted to. Even though he’d only had one drink.

In theory, one or all of these things could explain the way his skin felt warmer where Tendou touched him, and the way he wanted to smile whenever he caught Tendou’s eye. The way he’d jumped on the opportunity to hear about anything and everything Tendou had been doing in their time apart. The way he classified it as that – as time apart, rather than a “new chapter” or “since they’d seen each other last”.

But he kept sneaking glances at Tendou out of the corner of his eye, and there was no accounting for it.

Wakatoshi had never really understood the expression “a sight for sore eyes”. It didn’t seem like a valid metaphor – how could an emotional toll make his eyes ache. But Tendou’s heavy eyelids, gentle smile, and rumpled t-shirt are so _comforting_ , so soothing. Soothes him all the way down to his bones. He hadn’t realized his eyes had been sore, but the first time Tendou had smiled at him, he’d felt like they probably always had been.

Now, with Tendou by his side in the dark, a heavy weight has settled into his stomach. It’s not unpleasant.

He rubs his thumb gently along the hem Tendou’s shirt sleeve, just above the skin. Tendou doesn’t seem to notice, so Wakatoshi keeps doing it. He keeps doing it because the alcohol, that he hardly ever drinks, is making him bold and a little bit needy. He’s clear-headed enough to know that it’s not just that he hasn’t gotten laid in a month – that it is distinctly being around Satori again that inspires the light-tight feeling in his chest.

So when the next episode of the – pretty good, actually – anime Tendou has started them on, and Tendou asks, “One more?”, Wakatoshi says, “No, thanks. I’d rather talk.”

Tendou shrugs and reaches forward to grab his nearly-empty drink, and turn the TV off. Wakatoshi feels cold where Tendou used to be. He hadn’t realized they’d been cuddled up together long enough for that.

It’s dark. Tendou relaxes back onto the couch, with a heavy sigh. Wakatoshi can see his profile in the cool moonlight that comes in through the tiny window in his living room.

“Anything in particular you want to talk about?” Tendou says, swigging down the last of his drink. He grimaces and shudders as he puts the glass back on the table. “Gross,” he mutters under his breath.

“You don’t drink often?” Wakatoshi asks, surprised. (He grasps gratefully at the conversation starter.)

Tendou scoffs. “I drink _plenty._ Just not whiskey.”

Wakatoshi grimaces. “Sorry. It’s all I had.”

“No worries,” Tendou says, patting Wakatoshi’s thigh absently. His fingertips are dry – they always are. “It’s just really nice to see you again. I’ve missed hanging out with you so much.”

“You, too.” Wakatoshi wishes, not for the first time upon finding himself alone with his best friend, that he could confess his feelings as easily as Tendou does. It would certainly make moments like this less awkward. Less nerve-wracking.

But he can’t. So he lets the alcohol do its job, and he places his hand on top of Tendou’s on his leg. Tendou’s hand is a little cool, and feels almost dainty under his callouses. Tendou doesn’t say anything. He rubs his thumb across Tendou’s knuckles.

“Wakatoshi?” Tendou asks. Wakatoshi can’t muster the courage to look at his face.

“Yeah?” he asks, and immediately he bites his lip.

He can feel Tendou hesitate, a moment of tension before he speaks. “We just. Don’t usually hold hands.” He sounds neutral. Distant.

Wakatoshi swallows, and takes a deep breath, in and out through his nose. “I missed you more than I realized,” he says through the knot in his throat.

Tendou’s head snaps to look at him, but Wakatoshi still can’t meet his gaze. But he can feel Tendou’s searching look, so he closes his eyes. The alcohol makes his eyelids heavier than usual.

“What do you mean?” Tendou asks, and he still sounds removed, and maybe a little strained.

Wakatoshi risks a look. Tendou is staring at their joined hands, and Wakatoshi thinks he might be blushing.

He doesn’t have the words for this. He never has. He’s wanted them since before they graduated high school, since before the first time they went to nationals together. He’s wanted the words for so long, and the longer he waits, the more complicated they get. Maybe if he’d said something sooner, the feelings would be simpler. Now? Years and years on? He’s helpless.

So he forgets the words.

He leans over, into Tendou’s space. Tendou’s eyes, big and surprised, flick up to his face. Wakatoshi keeps leaning in, slow. Tendou should be able to guess what he’s going to do – Wakatoshi wants him to know, wants to be stopped if Tendou doesn’t want it. But he doesn’t get stopped. So he leans in, turns towards Tendou a little, and closes his eyes.

He presses his lips against Tendou’s softly. They’re a little chapped and dry, and a spark of heat runs up his spine. He kisses him one more time, and pulls away. Satori’s eyes are wide and bright.

“That’s what I mean,” he says softly. His voice is not his own, scratchy and hushed. Tendou doesn’t seem to hear him. His eyes are searching Wakatoshi’s face, darting from his lips to his cheeks to his eyes, and then down to his hands and shoulders, and then back up again.

Wakatoshi feels oddly calm, under his gaze. Out of his body, in a way. There’s nothing to do now but wait. Maybe, if he’s lucky, he can walk Tendou back to the bus station. Their hands are still joined together on his leg. He savors it while he can.

“Yeah?” Tendou finally says, and his voice sounds just like Wakatoshi’s. Tendou’s hand is shaking, just a little. Wakatoshi squeezes, once.

“Yes, Tendou. Always.” The last word slips out, but it’s true, so he lets it hang.

Tendou laughs, a single huff and a little, bewildered smile. He finally looks away from Wakatoshi. Some of the tightness in his chest eases, but his heartbeat is too loud.

“Yeah?” Tendou says again, and his big eyes are so pretty in the moonlight.

Wakatoshi nods, licking his lips. Tendou is still here. Tendou is still sitting next to him, they’re still holding hands. Tendou looks so nervous, though. His shoulders are tense, he’s breathing too heavy, and his eyes are piercing, searching, looking for something. Wakatoshi just returns his gaze.

Tendou must find what he’s looking for, because he relaxes. His shoulders sag and he leans forward. “Kiss me again, then,” he whispers. 

Wakatoshi surges forward, and Tendou’s lips feel just as wonderful the second time. Tendou’s hands come up to cup his face, and Wakatoshi slides his hands around Tendou’s slim waist. Tendou shivers, and moans into his mouth.

And that’s not something Wakatoshi had been prepared for – the reality of kissing someone like Tendou. It feels so intimate, so much more intimate than anything else he’s ever done, even though they’re just kissing. Tendou isn’t _hiding_ anything – not a single sound, not one movement. He’s giving it everything he’s got, lips opening and tongue swiping into Wakatoshi’s mouth. It feels so _fast_ , so rough. Impossibly fast, and before Wakatoshi realizes it they’re both out of breath and panting into each other’s mouths, wet and hot. It’s more intoxicating than the alcohol could ever be.

And then, he has a lapful of writhing, desperate Tendou Satori. Tendou gracefully straddles him, pulls Wakatoshi’s arms tighter around himself. Wakatoshi gasps.

“Is this okay?” Tendou asks between kisses, nibbling on Wakatoshi’s bottom lip. Wakatoshi answers with a nod, letting his hands slide up and down Tendou’s back. The calluses on his hands catch and drag on the fabric of his t-shirt. Tendou huffs and whimpers and shoves closer and closer, claiming and dominating. Wakatoshi takes whatever he’s given, gladly, but he can’t keep up. Tendou’s tongue is too good. He breaks away, gasping, to kiss along Tendou’s long neck. Tendou gasps, rough and loud, and his head tips back. Wakatoshi wants – wants more, wants those little noises, wants Tendou closer. He scrapes his teeth along the side of Tendou’s neck, and Tendou whimpers and his hips jerk forward and his thighs squeeze together on either side of Wakatoshi’s lap. Wakatoshi slides his hands around to Tendou’s hips, letting his fingers dig in. Tendou is shivering and trembling. 

Wakatoshi pulls back. Tendou tries to follow, searching for a kiss with his eyes closed. It’s so endearing that Wakatoshi almost forgets why he pulled away, but he presses against Tendou’s chest. Tendou drops his weight down, whining and opening his eyes and pouting.

“What?” he says, biting his lower lip. He’s so wound up that Wakatoshi imagines he’s vibrating.

Wakatoshi runs his hands up and down Tendou’s sides, slow. Trying to soothe. “You seem nervous.” He’s trying to ignore how _cute_ Tendou looks with his lip between his teeth and his wide eyes staring down at him.

Tendou laughs again, and his smile is more genuine this time. “I’m not – I’m not.” Tendou’s hands slide down to Wakatoshi’s chest, slow and sensual. “I just really like kissing you.” He leans in, shifting on Wakatoshi’s lap, and kisses Wakatoshi’s neck. His lips are wet and warm and mobile, and it makes Wakatoshi’s breath catch. Tendou doesn’t speed up, though. He moves down, pressing kisses across Wakatoshi’s collarbone, and it feels electric even through his shirt.

It’s so easy to get lost in the sensation – the sweetness and the heat. Wakatoshi forgets himself and _pulls_ Tendou to him, and realizes that Tendou is hard. It makes his own cock swell.

But Tendou jerks away, scooting back. “Sorry – sorry,” he’s panting, and he lets his head drop to Wakatoshi’s shoulder. Tendou’s breath is so warm.

Wakatoshi licks his lips. “Don’t be,” he says quickly.

Tendou tenses. “Yeah?”

Wakatoshi risks pressing a kiss to Tendou’s temple. “Do you want more?”

Tendou inhales sharply. “What do you mean?”

He rubs his thumbs along Tendou’s hipbones, and swallows, thickly. “Do you want to go to my room?” He can barely get the words out.

Tendou pulls back and _looks_ at him, eyes sharp and searching again. “I didn’t think you’d ask.” His voice is husky, and layered with emotions Wakatoshi can’t parse – he can’t make out his facial expression. He feels himself blink, slowly. In the darkness, Satori looks ethereal and gaunt.

“We can, if you want to,” Wakatoshi says, and he manages to make his voice sound normal.

“Do you want to?” Tendou asks sharply, eyes fierce. Wakatoshi couldn’t lie to those eyes even if he wanted to. He nods jerkily. Tendou’s breath stutters out. “Okay then.”

Wakatoshi wants to try carrying Tendou to his bedroom – Tendou doesn’t weigh anything, and he doesn’t want to be separated – but he doesn’t think the gesture will be appreciated. He reluctantly lets Tendou shuffle back off his lap. Tendou walks stiffly in front of him, past the kitchen, down the hall, and into Wakatoshi’s small bedroom.

He’d forgotten to close the window above his bed, so the room is bright with the moon. It’s colder in here, enough that goosebumps rise on Tendou’s skin. Wakatoshi shuts the door behind them, and steps in close behind him. Tendou jumps a little, but relaxes when Wakatoshi takes his hands and kisses the back of his neck. Tendou lets out a small little sigh. It sounds so fragile and hesitant. Wakatoshi shifts his grip to Tendou’s waist, and steps forward so their whole bodies are pressed together. Tendou gasps and lets his head fall back against Wakatoshi’s shoulder. His eyes are closed and he’s biting his lip again.

Like this, Tendou’s long, pale neck stretched out and kissed by the blue light of the moon, he looks like an offering. Surrendering entirely to Wakatoshi. The thought makes his heart float. He wants to do his best with the trust he’s been given; he wants to earn it. He turns to kiss Tendou’s neck, over and over again, licking and skin and inhaling the clean smell. Every languid press of his lips is met with a little whimper or mewl or sigh. (Tendou is so beautiful like this.) Wakatoshi wraps his arms around Tendou’s waist so that his left hand rests against his opposite hip, and his right is pressed firmly against Tendou’s heart. He can just feel the strong thrum of it against his palm. Tendou squirms at the touch, and his hands come up to run through Wakatoshi’s hair. He’s so gentle, almost reverent.

“Wakatoshi,” he breathes out. Wakatoshi kisses along his ear and bites at his earlobe, just to feel him jolt and gasp. “ _Wakatoshi,”_ he says again.

“Tendou,” he answers.

Tendou shivers. “Don’t get all seductive on me, I think I’ll die.”

“Seductive?” he repeats, blinking.

Tendou chuckles. “Never mind. Go sit on the bed, please?” He swallows, and Wakatoshi gets to watch his throat work over it.

Wakatoshi complies, leaving one last kiss on Tendou’s shoulder as he slips around him and sits on his bed. He feels blessed and lucky to have remembered to make it. Tendou walks over to him hesitantly – and kneels down in front of him.

His whole body tenses – it’s disgusting how _hot_ he thinks it is, how his heart skips a beat and his brain goes foggy. It’s disgusting, right? It should be. It’s indecent, at the very least. Disrespectful in the extreme, to enjoy the sight of Tendou on his knees, looking up at him with big eyes reflecting the moonlight and licking his lips and putting his hands on Wakatoshi’s thighs. Filthy –

“Can I suck you off?” Tendou whispers.

Wakatoshi closes his eyes against the pulse of _god yes_ that floods his body. “You don’t have to,” he says carefully.

Tendou snorts. “Answer the question, Wakatoshi.” His lips are so pretty, pink and plumper than usual.

Wakatoshi just nods, and Tendou’s hands dart up to the waistband of his shorts. He pulls the elastic away, and then grabs at his boxers, slipping his hands in against the bare skin of Wakatoshi’s stomach. It makes him gasp. Tendou is impatient, telling him to _lift up – yeah – let me – no go – okay, there_ as he yanks his clothes off. Wakatoshi takes his shirt off too, because it feels weird to leave it on. Tendou watches him do it and smirks, crossing his arms in front of his chest and removing his own shirt in one fluid, _gorgeous_ motion that stretches his chest for Wakatoshi to see.

Tendou fixes his eyes on Wakatoshi’s cock. Wakatoshi feels like he should close his eyes – it feels rude to stare, lewd to watch as Tendou sizes him up. He’s not fully hard yet, but Tendou doesn’t seem bothered. Wakatoshi bites the inside of his lip as Tendou presses a gentle kiss to the inside of his trembling thigh.

“Relax,” Tendou says, glancing up at him as he kisses the top of Wakatoshi’s knee.

“Sorry,” Wakatoshi croaks. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath. Tendou’s hands gently guide his legs further apart. He moves forward, placing kisses that make Wakatoshi shiver. His cock swells and a bead of pre wells at the tip. Tendou eyes it smugly, but he doesn’t speed up. He lets his teeth drag over the thin skin close to Wakatoshi’s balls, and Wakatoshi groans.

Tendou pulls back to make eye contact as he presses his lips against the middle of Wakatoshi’s shaft.

Wakatoshi’s legs jump, and Tendou presses down firmly, digging his hands into the muscle. He leaves three light kisses as he noses up to the tip, and the press of lips to the slit of his cock makes Wakatoshi gasp, loud in the quiet room. It’s so, _so_ quiet. Wakatoshi wasn’t prepared for it, the way every noise echoes and seems impossibly _loud_. The only sounds Wakatoshi can make out come from the two of them.

Tendou purses his lips and lays them on the tip of Wakatoshi’s cock, and looks up from under his lashes. Wakatoshi’s thighs jump again. (He still hasn’t _actually_ taken Wakatoshi inside yet, and he hadn’t known that teasing like this could be so enjoyable.) Tendou smiles, and takes Wakatoshi’s hands and guides them to his head. Wakatoshi’s breath catches in his chest as he lets his fingers curl into Tendou’s dark hair. It’s rough and crunchy with product, but it musses easily under his touch. He pets at Tendou gently, unsure and uncomfortable.

Tendou pulls back a little. “What?” he asks, and Wakatoshi can feel his warm breath against his cock. Against his will, it _twitches_ obscenely and bobs against Tendou’s lip.

“Sorry,” he says again. “I’m just – “ He swallows past the embarrassment. “No one has ever been so delicate with me before.”

Tendou frowns, eyebrows drawn together in concern. “I can be different, if you want.”

“No – no, it’s good. You’re good,” he says, tripping over the words in his rush. “I like it. I like _you_.” The honesty burns more than the whiskey.

Tendou must feel it too, because he blinks slowly and takes a deep, slow breath. “Okay,” he says eventually, and wraps his lips around the tip of Wakatoshi’s cock.

It’s heavenly. Wakatoshi can feel every intimate slide, every inhale and exhale, every lick and suckle. Tendou’s eyes are closed, eyebrows raised and drawn together, and his mouth is stretched so _wide_. Wakatoshi has never understood why blow jobs are given so much attention in pornography. He gets it, now.

Tendou takes more and more, so much that Wakatoshi is sure he’ll choke. But he doesn’t. Just swallows and slides down until Tendou’s lips are pressed against the base. It’s obscene, and he feels almost guilty for loving it. Wakatoshi’s trembling fingers splay through Tendou’s hair and smooth along his cheeks. When Tendou sucks, harsh and sudden, Wakatoshi jerks and accidentally tightens his hold in Tendou’s hair.

“Sorry,” he whispers, but it still sounds too loud. Tendou’s eyes flutter open, and he somehow manages to look condescending and sardonic, even on his knees with his mouth full of his best friend’s dick. It’s so _Tendou_ , so _them_ , so indicative of their relationship, that he laughs. Tendou’s eyes crinkle, too. Wakatoshi’s hands suddenly feel much steadier.

Tendou gives another long, hard suck and Wakatoshi is startled into a moan. He pants harshly when Tendou sucks and pulls off at the same time, and bites lips lip around a whine when he lets his nails drag along the tops of Wakatoshi’s hip. (Tendou is entirely too good at this.) The gentle crackling at the base of his spine turns fierce and electric. Tendou’s mouth is so wet, and spit dribbles down his chin as he slides down Wakatoshi’s length again.

“Careful!” Wakatoshi warns when he feels Tendou’s throat convulse around him. Tendou pulls off and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I can handle myself,” he snipes.

Wakatoshi backpedals. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Tendou smirks again. “Has it occurred to you that I like it?” Wakatoshi furrows his brow. Tendou leans close, so that Wakatoshi’s dick brushes against the soft skin of his face. “That I like chocking on your cock,” he whispers. Wakatoshi shivers and closes his eyes against the thrill that sweeps through his whole body. Suddenly, Tendou is swallowing down his whole length again.

Wakatoshi yelps and bows forward, curling over Tendou’s bouncing head. Tendou doesn’t miss an inch, sliding smoothly and sucking firmly over the entire length, over and over and over again. Wakatoshi can’t hold back his noises anymore, not when Tendou is whimpering and gagging around his length. The fire in spine makes his legs shake and his throat tighten. It feels _so good_ , better than anyone else he’s ever had. He doesn’t know why, but it’s undeniably true.

In fact, it’s so much better than he’s going to come too soon. It’s so much better that he can’t find the words for a warning. He just chokes and gasps – and not even the mortification can stifle the _rapture_ he feels as he comes down Tendou’s throat. It’s probably the strongest orgasm he’s ever had, and it leaves him winded.

Wakatoshi pants as Tendou licks his lips and watches him come down. Tendou runs his hands up and down Wakatoshi’s thighs slowly, blinking up at him in the dim moonlight. Wakatoshi still has his fingers buried in Tendou’s hair, and he unclenches his fists and pulls at the strands. They unclump and soften as he works. Tendou’s eyes flutter closed and push into the touch. Wakatoshi’s heart flips.

“Thank you,” Wakatoshi says.

Tendou’s eyes snap open and he _laughs._ It’s long and loud, and it breaks the spell of his post-orgasm haze. He feels himself flush, and Tendou leans forward to press his forehead into Wakatoshi’s thigh, still laughing hysterically. Wakatoshi waits it out, biting his lip.

“Jesus, Wakatoshi,” he says eventually. “You fucking _nerd_.” Wakatoshi shifts, averts his gaze. Tendou notices. “Oh – no, I didn’t mean –“ he breaks off and huffs out another little laugh. “I didn’t mean to laugh at you. It was just. So funny.” Wakatoshi still can’t bring himself to meet Tendou’s eyes, and his lip is starting to hurt from where it’s pinched between his teeth. “Hey.” Tendou’s soft hand is on his chin, tiling his head. Tendou sits up on his knees, bringing their eyes closer together. Wakatoshi can’t escape his gaze, now. “Don’t,” he says softly, and he sounds worried. It uncoils the knot in his stomach. “I’m sorry. It was just so cute, is all,” he mumbles.

That startles a laugh out of Wakatoshi. “Cute?” he repeats.

Tendou licks his lips, smiles, and nods. “Yeah. Thanking a guy for a blow job is like. The number one weirdest thing you can do, and you managed to make it _cute_.” He sighs wistfully. “Fucker,” he adds, and Wakatoshi laughs again.

He reaches out to grab at Tendou’s wrists and pull Tendou up onto the bed, onto his lap. Tendou is still wearing his pants, and the denim rubs against his bare skin. It shouldn’t feel good, he’s still hyper-sensitive from his orgasm, but it makes him shiver. He runs his hands up Tendou’s back again, and then down again. His skin is cool to the touch. He’s shivering, too. His eyes are closed and his head is tipped back, and every time Wakatoshi’s fingertips brush against the hem of his pants he jolts. Tendou’s hands, resting on Wakatoshi’s shoulders, tighten their grip when Wakatoshi rubs his thumbs across his v-line.

“Are you okay?” Wakatoshi asks. “Are you cold?” Wakatoshi isn’t. He feels so hot, even hotter where his bare skin touches Tendou’s.

“I’m fine,” Tendou says, too quickly. “I’m not cold.” Wakatoshi nods, and rubs his hands up and down Tendou’s back again. It gets him another shiver, but this time Tendou’s hips jerk, too.

“What do you want?” Wakatoshi asks, licking his lips.

Tendou shakes his head. “Nothing. I’m fine,” he repeats, blinking his eyes open and looking down.

Wakatoshi frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t want anything.” Tendou holds his gaze, tipping his chin up defiantly.

“I don’t understand,” Wakatoshi says carefully. “Aren’t these….aren’t things like _this_ …usually reciprocal?”

Tendou snorts and rolls his eyes. “ _Reciprocal_ ,” he mutters under his breath. “Yeah, I guess,” he says, louder. “Usually.”

Wakatoshi slides his hands down to wrap around Tendou’s slender thighs. He looks at a patch of faded freckles on Tendou’s shoulder. “I’d like to reciprocate,” he croaks. He knows he sounds ridiculous, but it’s all he can think to say. He’s naked and Tendou is sitting on his lap, hair mussed and lips wet and looking exactly like all of his wet dreams from the last 3 years.   

The hesitant, scared expression he’s wearing isn’t found in his dreams, though. Neither is the tiny, strained voice that comes out of him when he says, “Are you sure?” Wakatoshi nods, as earnestly he can manage around the way his heart is pounding. Tendou looks conflicted as he says, “You don’t have to.”

Wakatoshi slides his hands around Tendou’s waist and presses a kiss to his sternum. It seems like the right move because Tendou gasps and throws his hips forward again. He risks another kiss and look up into Tendou’s eyes. “Why wouldn’t I want to?” he asks, and his voice is thick with too much honesty, but it’s too late.

And he can’t regret it when Tendou moans and kisses him fiercely. All at once, Tendou is worked up again, as if they’ve never stopped. Wakatoshi kisses back, even though it feels like Tendou is trying to eat him alive. It seems like he’s content with just kissing – for uncountable minutes he just rolls his tongue into Wakatoshi’s mouth madly, possessively. Then he thrusts his hips against Wakatoshi’s oversensitive dick, so he grabs at Tendou’s hips to still him. Tendou doesn’t appreciate that at all. He whines loudly and bites at Wakatoshi’s lip, tangling his hands in Wakatoshi’s hair. Wakatoshi has no choice but to kiss back for all he’s worth. Not that he’d make another choice.

Carefully, he lifts Tendou off his lap and lays him back on the bed. Tendou gasps and throws his head back, and Wakatoshi has to take a moment to just _look_. Tendou’s hair is well and truly fucked up, raked up in some places and smashed flat in others. He’s sweaty and shaking, seeming overstimulated already. His hands grip and shift over Wakatoshi’s comforter, like he can’t decide what he wants to do with them. His feet do the same; Wakatoshi can feel it under him from where he’s perched on his hands and knees. His chest is flushed and his nipples are hard, and he’s breathing heavily. His eyes are easily the most enchanting part. His pupils are blown huge, and he’s looking up at Wakatoshi with what might be _awe_. Wakatoshi is hit with two fierce sensations at once: his heart flipping ad seizing with affection, and a jolt through the base of his spine that lands in his spent cock.

Wakatoshi leans down and presses a few gentle kisses to Tendou’s neck. Tendou’s hands shoot up to grip his biceps, and he throws his head back and whines. (Wakatoshi is flying completely blind – even in his most lust-addled fantasies, he’s never imagined a Tendou that’s so responsive, willing, pliant…desperate. So he tries to proceed with caution.) Tendou is a live wire under his touch, every sensation making him gasp and tremble. When Wakatoshi palms him through his pants, he’s rock hard. Tendou makes the sweetest sound yet, keening and almost pained, and _thrusts_ into the touch sensuously.

And just like that, like a miracle, Wakatoshi can feel himself getting hard again. He ignores it though, in favor of undoing the button and zipper of Tendou’s pants and rubbing against him through his underwear.

“Don’t,” Tendou says breathlessly, opening his eyes. He twists and shifts and writhes until he’s naked, too, and he throws his clothes clear across the room. It would be funny if it wasn’t so desperately sexy. Tendou’s eyes land on Wakatoshi’s hardening length. He raises an eyebrow. “Ready to go again?” he teases. Wakatoshi swallows.

“I’d rather get you off,” he confesses, feeling exposed again. Tendou’s eyes are too knowing.

“I’d rather have both,” Tendou says slyly, and he wraps his legs around Wakatoshi’s hips and _pulls_.

Wakatoshi barely stops himself from falling entirely, but their cocks grind together. Wakatoshi gasps at the feeling, and Tendou whines. Tendou bucks up, and Wakatoshi can feel every muscle he uses to make it happen. It leaves him dizzy. He kisses Tendou’s neck again.

“What do you want?” Wakatoshi manages to say.

“This is _more_ than enough,” Tendou replies, hands sliding up around Wakatoshi’s neck to run his fingernails through the short hair. Wakatoshi shivers and scrapes his teeth over Tendou’s neck.

“Wait a second,” Wakatoshi manages to whisper, and he leans over to rummage through his bedside table drawer. He takes a few deep breaths while he can – all that pale, soft skin addles his brain. Tendou huffs impatiently, dragging his nails across Wakatoshi’s sides and stomach. Wakatoshi gasps and jerks. “ _Please_ wait a second,” he laughs. Tendou bites his lip and lets his hands fall so they rest on either side of his head. It’s so... _wanton_. Wakatoshi sifts through his drawer without looking, because he can’t take his eyes off the beautiful spread in front of him. His fingers close around a little bottle of lube. There isn’t much left, but it’ll do for this. Tendou’s eyes widen when he spots it. He tenses.

“No –“ Wakatoshi starts, feeling like an _idiot_. “I don’t mean – “ He huffs. “I just thought it would make this easier,” he finishes lamely, mumbling against Tendou’s forehead. 

Mercifully, Tendou relaxes. “Oh. Thanks.”

Wakatoshi sits back, shivering as it brings their cocks together again. Tendou jerks and his hands clench into fists. Wakatoshi rushes through coating his hand in lube – or tries to. He has to coax the thick, viscous substance from the bottom of the tube. He feels ridiculous, but Tendou just watches through half lidded eyes. He squeezes a dollop out and rubs it around his fingers, tossing the tube to the floor. (It’s almost empty, anyway.)

He lowers down again, so he’s nose to nose with Tendou, supporting himself on one forearm. His other arm slips between them, lubed up hand hesitantly wrapping around both of their cocks. Tendou whines and his head falls back again. Wakatoshi presses his lips against Tendou’s throat. His hand slides over them easily – wetly – _lewdly_. He rubs over both of them evenly, spreading the lube around until they’re both coated in a mix of pre and the lubricant.

Tendou is still so responsive – so willing – and it makes Wakatoshi bold. He removes his hand, wipes it on the blaket, and lowers onto Tendou so he can grind against him like that. Tendou gasps so suddenly he chokes on it, convulsing and writhing. Wakatoshi shushes him, pressing kisses to his ear.

“Wakatoshi,” he whimpers. Wakatoshi is sure he’s the most perverted individual on the planet, because the desperate edge to his voice has him shuddering.

“Tendou,” he whispers back.

“No – Satori, call me Satori, please.”

Wakatoshi pulls back. He almost never calls him by his first name. ‘Satori’ had always seemed to intimate, too informal, for most of their conversations. Too intimate even for his own head. It doesn’t, anymore.

“Satori,” he breathes, right into his ear. It feels good rolling across his tongue.

Tendou – _Satori_ – must think it sounds good too, because he outright moans. He bucks up into Wakatoshi recklessly, hips shifting helplessly, no finesse, no control. Just _want_ , exposed for Wakatoshi to adore.

So he selfishly indulges. He rolls his hips smoothly, trying to imitate what he’s seen in movies and porn. He lets himself breathe heavily into Satori’s ear, and tug on his hair. Nips at Satori’s neck and throat, teeth sliding over his pounding pulse, savoring every moan and shout and gasp and whimper and whine and undefinable sound he manages to draw forth. When Satori throws his legs around Wakatoshi’s hips and digs his heels into his ass, Wakatoshi lets out his own yelp and picks up the pace of his thrusts. When Satori’s thin, clever fingers work over his nipples, he shivers and throws his head back on a moan.

When Satori moans into his ear, “Bite me,” Wakatoshi is certain he sees stars. He obeys. He sinks his teeth into the meat of Satori’s shoulder, sucking and working the skin between his teeth. He should feel guilty for being too rough. As it is, Satori’s nails scratch across his back and he pants _yes, yes, yes, Wakatoshi_.

When he pulls away (because he’s out of breath), there’s a dark red mark and indentions from his teeth. Satori looks completely undone, and Wakatoshi is swept away by the desperation for _more more more now_. So he rolls his hips with all he’s got. He doesn’t want any space between them anywhere. They twist and roll together, somehow in sync, even in their madness. The smell of their sweat mingling is so _enticing_ , even though it shouldn’t be. He licks over the mark he left on Satori’s body, enjoying it far too much when Satori whines and tilts his head so Wakatoshi can get closer.

“Wakatoshi, Wakatoshi, Toshi, Toshi,” Satori says over and over again.

“Satori,” he groans. He’s grateful for the indirect stimulation, because he’s sure he would have come again by now. But he feels it building against the base of his spine. “Are you close?”

Satori nods, eyebrows drawn together painfully. “Yeah, Toshi,” he adds. “So close, you feel so good, _Toshi_.” No one has ever called him that before. It sends a pleasant hum up and down his spine.

“Me too,” he whispers. He wishes he wasn’t. He wishes he could do this forever, or at least until Satori begged him to stop. (He’s so, _so_ glad that Satori can’t hear his thoughts.) Satori whimpers at the admission, and he tightens his legs so Wakatoshi can’t thrust – just grind sloppily.

Wakatoshi pulls back to kiss Satori. He licks into Satori’s mouth, forcing him to open wide, so he can’t stifle a single response. Satori’s nails sting across the muscles of his back. He goes faster with his hips and slower with his tongue. Suddenly, Satori gets quiet, but his hips jerk and his whole body trembles. He can almost taste Satori’s orgasm before it happens.

When he comes, Wakatoshi pulls away again to watch. Satori’s eyes are wide open. He looks so _surprised_. He chokes out _Toshi_ , and a series of _ah oh ah_ sounds that boil Wakatoshi’s blood. Hot semen sprays between them, shooting up to catch Satori’s chin. Satori doesn’t still, even after his cock softens – he keeps trembling and shuddering, long enough that it makes Wakatoshi spill, too.

Wakatoshi is left panting in the wake of it as he watches Satori come down from his high. His arms are shaking, but he can’t pay it any mind. Satori’s expression of bliss, mixed with something deep and untouchable, is too entrancing. He watches Satori’s cum run down his neck and into the divot of his collarbones. It’s unbearably sexy. So is the way the hickey on his shoulder is turning purple.

Wakatoshi just watches, passive in his appreciation. When Satori’s eyes blink open, he looks almost innocent. Wakatoshi smiles down at him.

“Hey,” he whispers.

Satori’s legs fall from around his hips, flopping to the bed. “Hey,” Satori mumbles back. Wakatoshi lets himself drop to the side, careful not to smear the mess between them. He likes the way it looks too much. (He really didn’t know he was such a pervert.) The word _debauched_ comes to mind. Satori fits the definition to the letter. (It’s better than his wet dreams.)

Wakatoshi waits as Satori’s breath evens out, running his fingers up and down the inside of his arm. The skin there is thin and _soft_. Vulnerable. Pretty. He feels Satori’s eyes on his face, but he doesn’t look up. He doesn’t want the moment to end.  

But he’s finally achieved his wildest dream, and he’s had _two_ mind-shattering orgasms. Wakatoshi starts to feel sleepy and heavy. “Stay the night?” he asks Satori’s shoulder. He’s sure he’s made the wrong move; he doesn’t know how he knows, but the question makes Satori uncomfortable. “You don’t have to,” he adds, biting his lip.

“I have to be somewhere early tomorrow,” Satori says, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“I could drive you,” he offers, feeling an ache in the bottom of his chest.

Satori closes his eyes and inhales deeply. Wakatoshi is patient.

“You want me to?” Satori barely opens his mouth around the words.

Wakatoshi nods, letting his forehead rub again Satori’s arm. “Yes,” he clarifies, wrapping his hand around Satori’s wrist.

Satori exhales shakily. “Okay,” he whispers hoarsely.  The word is small and simple, but it feels heavy in the darkness.

Wakatoshi can’t hide a smile. He sits up carefully, though his muscles protest, and reaches to his desk that sits at the foot of the bed. He grabs a few tissues from his tissue box. He wipes at himself first, even though it’s mostly dry. It pulls uncomfortably at his pubic hair. (It’s gross.) He wipes more carefully on Satori. (He notices that Satori’s body hair is just as shockingly bright as the hair on his head. He’s seen it before, of course, but never this close. A rushing tide of _gratitude_ sweeps over him – it’s a privilege to be allowed so near.)

He glides the tissues up the length of Satori’s chest, because his release has splattered _that_ far. Satori grimaces when he wipes across his throat.

“Sorry,” Wakatoshi says lowly. “I’m done.” He throws the tissues away, positive he misses the trash can and positive he doesn’t care.

He slides the blankets down around them, around Satori’s boneless form. Satori attempts to help, and it’s so _cute_. Wakatoshi shushes him as he draws the top sheet over them. It’s cool against his overheated skin. Satori musters the energy to turn to his side, so Wakatoshi takes advantage. He shuffles close, wrapping his arms around Satori’s waist. _Satori_. He’ll probably never call him Tendou again. The thought makes him giddy.

“Goodnight, Satori,” he whispers, just so he can say it again.

There’s a long pause. Wakatoshi is sure he’s fallen asleep already. And then, like a benediction, he hears it.

“Goodnight, Toshi.”

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment and let me know what you thought! I'm still working on Wakatoshi's characterization, so any advice/suggestions on that front would be greatly appreciated.  
> Come say hi on Tumblr! My username there is the same as here.  
> Thank you for reading!


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